


Even the Weeping Willows Weep No More

by BreTheWriter



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:25:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreTheWriter/pseuds/BreTheWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thalia just wishes she had a gravesite she could visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even the Weeping Willows Weep No More

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2013 PJO Shipweeks on Tumblr, Week 1: Thaluke (July 14-20). Nothing like squeaking in at the last minute...

I just wish I had a tombstone for you. 

Demigods don't usually have tombstones, unless we're really lucky. Those of us who die young, who die in battle--you know, we just burn the body and the shroud. Or just the shroud, in most cases, because there's not a body to burn. That's how it was with you. Percy told me that the Fates took your body themselves. I guess that's kind of an honor, right? But anyway, all we really had was a shroud, and we burned it. 

So I don't have anything to mourn. Nothing but this tree. My tree. 

I don't know why I feel so close to you here. Maybe it's because...well, a part of me remembers. I know I shouldn't. I wasn't really dead, but I was definitely asleep. But...somehow, I can remember things that happened. Some of them. 

You talked to me, didn't you? _You_ knew. You knew I was still there, and you never gave up on me. I remember hearing your voice. It...it almost woke me up, a few times. I think I remember trying to move, and it just being so slow. But you used to come and talk to me sometimes, even after curfew, when you could avoid the harpies and Mr. D. Sometimes you wouldn't say anything at all, you'd just sit there with your back against my tree, but other times you'd put your arm around it like it was my shoulder and you'd talk. I still remember your words. 

_The gods did this to you. They'll pay._

_It shouldn't have been you. It should have been me._

You used to tell me about the camp, everything that was going on. You told me all about Annabeth, what a fine young woman she was becoming, how she was better with that dagger you gave her than most people were with swords, how smart and brave she was. But I remember you getting angry when you told me she didn't want to fight the gods anymore--that she'd actually started to accept them. 

_She's one of_ them _now. She's forgotten everything we taught her._

_She doesn't care what happened to you anymore._

I remember the branches of the trees shook, and I'm still not sure if that was the wind or me trying to put my arms around you--or hit you, whatever. You knew that wasn't true. Annabeth isn't like that. She cared. She cared about both of us--you especially. I always knew how protective she was of you. I told Percy that, not that long ago. But you were so hurt you couldn't listen. 

You came to my tree to say goodbye before you went on that quest. I remember you were angry that Hermes couldn't come up with anything better for you than to repeat one of Hercules' quests. But you were scared, too--and a little hopeful. You thought maybe if you did a good job, you'd get the respect of the gods. But then you came back with a scar on your face...and a scar on your soul. You curled up by the trunk and cried like the child you'd never been able to be, not like the teenager you tried to be. I tried to move again to hug you back, but...I was just a tree. 

_He_ let _this happen. He doesn't care._

_He never cared._

Did you tell me about Kronos? I don't think so. I think you were afraid to tell even me, even though I was just a tree, because you were afraid someone would overhear. But you told me about Percy. You had a kind of barely controlled excitement in your voice when you told me that there was another child of the Big Three around, that the Great Prophecy might be coming to pass. You told me everything about him. 

And then, one night...you came to tell me goodbye. 

_I'm leaving camp. I probably won't be back again. This might be my..._ our _last chance._

_I miss you. I'll never stop missing you._

_There_ has _to be a way to bring you back. If I find it...well, that's the only thing that'll bring me back._

If I could have woken up then, I would have. I know I remember that. I missed you, too, and I didn't want to lose you. I didn't understand why you were leaving. 

And then you came back, and I remember you whispering _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry_ as you drilled into the side of my tree, injected the poison. 

It hurt. Did you know that? Did you know I felt everything that happened to my tree? Because you weren't just poisoning the tree. You were poisoning me. I wasn't dead and you knew that. I know you knew that. But you...you hurt me anyway. Because you wanted someone to go after the Golden Fleece. To further your agenda. 

And then Percy and Annabeth brought it back. They saved it. They saved the camp. They saved me. 

I never told anyone that I remembered you talking to me. I let them think I'd been sleeping, or dead, the whole time. Then we rescued the di Angelos, and Annabeth was kidnapped by the manticore, and Artemis went missing, and Percy and I had a huge fight during Capture the Flag because we're basically the same person and neither one of us could admit that we might be wrong. And I got chosen to go on that quest, and Percy didn't. 

Part of me felt bad about that, you know. Because he wanted to go. Badly. He _needed_ to go. And it turned out we needed him. But...well, that was why Zoë and Percy and I fought so much, at least at first. Because each of us had our own agendas on that quest. Zoë wanted to save Artemis. Percy wanted to save Annabeth. And me? I hate to say this, but I couldn't have cared less about either of them. 

Well, that's not true. I was worried about Annabeth. She's like a little sister. But truthfully, the reason I wanted to go on the quest? I was looking for you. I wanted to see you. To find you. To...to save you. 

I missed you. I missed your voice, your crooked grin, your hand in mine. Your arm around my shoulders. Your cheek resting on the top of my hair. 

Oh, gods. When Percy told us he'd talked with Aphrodite in New Mexico, all I could think was that I was thankful she hadn't wanted to talk to _me_. Maybe she already knew I'd end up joining the Hunters and decided I wasn't worth her time. But if she'd talked to me, she'd have known my secret. 

And then we met you on Mount Tam, and you and I fought. And I _hated_ it. Because...because despite what I said, I still saw you, the boy I'd met all those years ago. My friend. My protector. My hero. 

And I almost couldn't do what needed to be done. 

I really thought I'd killed you, until Percy confessed later that his father had told him you weren't dead. But by then...I'd already joined the Hunters. I'm the head of the whole bunch. I have foresworn the company of men. 

I couldn't love you anymore. 

But I did. I do. Gods of Olympus, I do. I never stopped. Even when I heard all the horrible things you'd done, even when I saw what you did, I couldn't stop loving you, deep down. Just like Zoë never got over Hercules. 

Annabeth and Percy told me about your death. They told me that you sacrificed yourself to defeat Kronos, that you were the hero of the prophecy. Percy pulled me aside later and told me that you'd decided to try for the Isles of the Blessed. 

You deserve it. If anyone deserves it, you do. You'll make it there. Maybe someday I'll meet your second or third life, and look into your eyes and see your soul--the soul of the boy I loved, the man I respected in the end. The Hero of Olympus. 

My hero. 

I just wish I had someplace I could go to remember you, other than this tree--the tree that tore us apart, the tree that crushed you and brought about this whole damned mess. But at least it's something. At least it's somewhere I can go to think of you. 

If I close my eyes, I can even hear your voice. 

_I love you, Thalia Grace._

And I love you, Luke Castellan.


End file.
